Musings of a Meal
by TsumetaiYuuki
Summary: The last plan. He would ensure that the end was favorable. Even if the only thing that he truly desired, craved, was unattainable, he would give anything and everything to his love, be it his soul or his life. If his death would please him, then so be it.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Kuroshitsuji, nor do I make any profit off of this work of fanfiction.**

**Warning: This does contain hints of shounen-ai, though nothing is explicit or really even pronounced. If it bothers you, please do not read.**

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He knew that the most common descriptions of him were ruthless, indifferent, and adorable; the latter coming from someone he was sure was clinically insane, even if they were related. He understood perfectly well that many, if not all, of the things that he did was Machiavellian: the ends justify the means. He also knew that, even if he did not sign away his soul in a Faustian contract, he probably would have ended up somewhere unpleasant after his death anyways simply because of his cruel ambition and deeds he would have committed with said ambition urging him on.

And he also, with his brilliant mind and prodigal intelligence, came to the conclusion that the one thing he wanted the most – even more so than his revenge at this point – would forever be unattainable to him.

Even before he had fully accepted the situation, his logical mind worked out every possible scenario in a desperate attempt to come to a conclusion that did not result in the ultimate finale, but in the end, he settled on what route he had to travel by to the most favorable end.

And he knew what he had to do, in order for that end.

And so he bid his time. He held onto his outer mask of apathy, of complete and utter aloofness, and kept it there in front of everyone, and anyone, especially _him_. He did as his original plan dictated: he sought fiercely and fought for his revenge, all the while retaining his expected indifference to the entire situation.

It wasn't until the final piece of attaining his revenge fell into place that he allowed his mask to fall away, if only for a moment. That night, after being changed into his night clothes by a slightly smirking butler, he returned to himself the ability to feel. Or rather, the ability to express his emotions, instead of bottling them inside himself.

When he was sure that his butler was gone, his tears fell, glistening in the pale rays of moonlight that managed to pierce the thick curtains. Despite his better judgment, he simply could not stop the droplets, and after a few moments of trying to suppress them, he gave up.

The drops fell, tangible proof of the ache that seemed to take up residency in the part of him that he almost never used. His heartbeat resounded in his mind, and with each soft thump it felt as if someone was stabbing him through the heart. Even when he managed to secure his feelings, the pangs only faded to a sharp ache.

And yet he knew this was how it had to happen. In his reason driven mind, this was the only way it could end. Hence why he allowed only a few silent sobs to wrack him, before he took a deep breath and composed himself. This was how it had to happen. This was how it had to happen. He repeated the mantra in his head, and leaned onto his side, the position he preferred to sleep in.

This was how it had to happen.

He closed his eyes, and allowed the comforting darkness to take him.

Soon.

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It was time. The ultimate ending, the one that he had envisioned and resigned to himself to as soon as he realized his true primary ambition, and the thing that he wanted the most in the world.

His revenge was complete. All who had desecrated his family name and all it represented were dead. The wish that he had made upon the Faustian contract had been completed, and it was time for him to follow up with his side of the bargain.

And yet he couldn't feel the satisfaction that the act should have brought him. There was a degree of content, but the emotions that he had anticipated had been replaced by the ones that still plagued him.

So now he was seated on a bench of sorts, and his lone showing blue eye surveyed the milieu carefully. His butler allowed him to do so, standing at his side. It was the raven haired man that broke the silence first.

"Does anything pain you, bocchan?"

That washed away all doubts he had about the butler not hearing of last night's events. Then again, it was expected of the elder man, perfect in every way and more.

He couldn't help but think it ironic, that the demon cared about his mental well-being when his soul was about to be consumed by said demon. And yet, that just reminded him all the more of the fact that his butler only cared about him because of the supposed delicacy that his body carried. That all the raven was concerned with was the taste of his meal, and not whether or not anything actually pained him.

The thought, being brought to the forefront of his mind, just hurt him all the greater.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and answered, "Nothing." A short pause occurred before he continued, driven on by what he believed to be selfishness, "This is an order. Do not forget about me."

The demon knelt in front of him, a gesture that was familiar to him by now. The raven answered, "Yes, my lord."

He nodded. "My side of the contract, then."

The butler smiled, somehow looking sincere while retaining his dark demeanor. "Yes, my lord."

_His _voice, _his _smile, brought the teen to near unraveling. It was sheer willpower that kept him as reserved and aristocratic as he usually was. It _hurt_, that only his death would invoke that smile from the demon.

The raven stood, and reached for him; he closed his eyes and anticipated a burst of pain. The shock at a cool hand resting on his cheek made him open his eyes again, and he let out a small sound of protest at the close proximity that the two now shared.

"Don't worry, bocchan. This won't hurt."

And despite his controversial emotions, he sighed softly, and nodded. "Continue, then."

Even with bracing himself did not stop his surprise when cool lips touched his. It was only his wildest, fleeting dreams that he dared to even think of such an occurrence, and he knew that it was impossible.

Yet here he was.

His eyes had opened in shocked, and he stared into deep burgundy eyes before his eyelids felt so heavy he closed them again.

And even with the majority of his strength fading at a rapid pace, his logical mind was rationalizing. This was most likely the way to extract souls, and there was no reason for him to think otherwise. In spite of the fact that it pained him, he knew that the butler had extracted dozens, hundreds, maybe even thousands of souls. The raven was used to it by now, he deduced.

And even as his vision faded, and his head felt fuzzy, he smiled softly.

'At least, if he can't care for me, love me...I can take comfort in the fact that my soul will be a treat. If I can sustain him in some way, create the smallest spark of satisfaction, of content...,' he struggled to complete the sentence in his mind, resisting the waves of darkness – idly, feeling almost detached from the entire situation all together, he noticed that there was, indeed, no pain or discomfort present in the extraction, but rather a sort of a peaceful buzzing in the discreet corners of his thoughts. '...then it is worth it.'

His last feeling was of unadulterated, pure, adoration and love.

Ciel Phantomhive's last thought was of Sebastian Michaelis.

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**My muses...are feeling rather dark, if my current works are anything to go by. Sort of an AU character study of Ciel. This will currently remain an one-shot, unless I prompted to do otherwise. **

**Thanks for reading, do leave me a comment and let me know what you think. **


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